


Nightmares

by bulletincookie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Tooth Rotting Fluff, france is a good big brother, no ships here except friendship, unless you wanna use your imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletincookie/pseuds/bulletincookie
Summary: Family was always France's priority, even if it meant disturbing his beauty sleep and going out of his way at 3 in the morning to comfort needy and stubborn siblings. He had to live up to his title of "big brother", after all.





	Nightmares

France was woken up at 3 in the morning by his phone ringing. He knew that he always set his ringtone to the loudest setting before he went to sleep for such reasons, but it still didn't make it any less annoying. He groaned softly and propped himself up on an arm as he grabbed his phone, squinting at it to read who was calling. Spain. With Spain, it was always a gamble on whether he was actually in need of help or whether it was just him being plastered. He accepted the call anyways, knowing that since they hadn't gone out for drinks earlier, it was probably something important. He hadn't even managed to get out ‘Hello’ before his suspicions were proven true by a small sob on the other

“Mon ami? Is everything alright?” he asked

“N-No,” Spain whimpered, and with that, France was instantly awake and already getting

“Is it a nightmare? Do you need me to come over?” he asked, and Spain managed a shaky hum of agreement. “I'll be over in just a few minutes then. Is your door unlocked?” he

“Yes,” Spain mumbled, and France sighed in

“I'm going to hang up now so I can get ready faster,” he explained softly. “Big brother will be right

“G-Gracias,” Spain stammered before hanging up. France tossed on the first outfit he grabbed. It wasn't very fashionable, it was just a t shirt and some loose fitting pants, but it was three in the morning and he doubted Spain would

He traveled over to Spain's house. While most of the countries could do it, it was exhausting. It was worth it in France’s opinion, he didn't have time to drive all the way to Spain's house. He looked up at the large building and smiled faintly. All of the lights in the house were on. Spain still didn't seem to like the dark. He went in without bothering to knock, and he went upstairs to peek into Spain's room where Spain sat on his bed, huddled in his blankets and hugging a pillow tight as he trembled. 

“May I come in?” he asked politely, not hesitating another second when Spain nodded. He strode over to the bed and sat down next to him. He couldn't help but smile when Spain tossed the pillow to the side in favor of clinging to him, seeming like he couldn't get close enough to him or hold him tight enough. France returned the embrace gently, feeling his heart break when he felt how much Spain was trembling. He didn't mind how tightly Spain was holding onto him, even if it always caused bruises to form over his chest. He wasn't about to tell the kind-hearted country not to hold him so tightly when it was one of the things he needed

“It's all in the past. Nobody is holding any grudges against you for it anymore,” he whispered, gently rubbing small circles into Spain's back to soothe him. He didn't know quite what Spain had a nightmare about this time, but he knew that what Spain always needed was a soft voice to whisper gentle praises and reassurances. He kept murmuring softly to him until he felt Spain slowly relax and loosen his hold on

“You're wrong,” he muttered, his voice stable but still thick from crying. “Portugal still hates me for what I did to

“No he doesn't. You know he only jokes about holding grudges against you,” France murmured, gently pushing Spain's bangs out of his eyes. He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to wipe off Spain's cheeks and nose for him, just like the big brother that he claimed himself to be. He tossed the tissue into the wastebasket and pulled Spain into a gentle hug

“Do you need anything? Some water?” he offered, and Spain nodded. “Stay right here then. I’ll go get you some.” He let go of Spain and got up, hurrying downstairs into the kitchen to get Spain a glass of ice water, and some chocolates he found in the freezer. He brought them back up to Spain’s room with the glass of water and handed everything to him before he sat back down next to him. Spain smiled when he recognized the

“I forgot I had these,” he said, cuddling up to France’s side again as he took turns between nibbling on the chocolate and sipping at the water. “They’re still good. Do you want one?” he offered, holding one out to France. France chuckled and took it, popping it into his mouth. It was cold, but still good, like Spain said. Even when he was scared half to death of his thoughts and still visibly shaking and teary-eyed, the sunny nation was kind as always to everyone

“France, what do you do when you get nightmares?” Spain asked curiously once he finished his chocolates and water. France looked at him in surprise, then gave a small

“I hardly get nightmares now,” he assured him, pulling him into a hug. “I believe it is God’s gift to me, so that I can always be ready just in case someone else needs my help.” He felt bad, lying to Spain, but he was also thankful that Spain didn’t bother pushing the question

“Oh. That’s very lucky, and nice,” he agreed, appearing satisfied with the answer. He yawned and cuddled up to France again, obviously starting to fall back asleep once

“Are you feeling better now?” France asked, and Spain gave a hesitant nod. “Good. Are you ready to go back to sleep?” Another nod. France pulled away so he could help Spain fix his sheets and blankets as Spain laid down and got comfortable. France gently tucked him in and placed an innocent kiss on Spain's forehead.

“Sleep well, mon ami,” he whispered. He stayed in the room for a few more minutes just to make sure Spain wouldn't go back to having the same nightmare before he quietly left the room. He grabbed Spain's keyring off of the kitchen table and headed outside. If there was anything he knew, it was that no matter how much they tried to deny it, Spain and Portugal were eerily similar in some ways, even somehow when they had nightmares. So he took Spain's car across the border to Portugal's house, which wasn't very far away. The two lived close, despite Portugal supposedly disliking being so close to Spain.

France smiled when he pulled up to Portugal's house and saw that all of the lights were on as well. They were similar in that regard, but also different. While Spain was fearful of the dark itself, Portugal was fearful of the shadows his eyes played tricks on him with to make him see something that wasn't there. He stepped up to the porch and knocked on the door, then waited for a few minutes. He was about to use Spain's key to get inside before he heard shuffling on the other side. There was a pause, and then the lock clicked open, with the door opening soon after.

“What are you doing here at this time?” Portugal muttered, rubbing his eyes to try to pass off wiping away his tears as actually just waking up. The red blotches on his cheeks and nose and the slight sniffling gave it away anyways.

“I had a hunch,” France explained with a small smile. Portugal sighed and opened the door wider as he stepped to the side to let France in. France smiled more and thanked him as he stepped inside and took off his shoes. He knew he was going to be here for a while, it always took longer with the stubborn and prideful nations that didn't let themselves cry.

Portugal shuffled back over to the couch, where a pile of tissues was on the coffee table next to an opened bottle of wine while the TV rambled on about something boring on the news. France turned it off and corked back up the bottle. He knew that Portugal wouldn't need either of them now.

“You should've called me. You know I don't mind if it's something like this,” he whispered as he sat down next to Portugal. He took the folded up blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around them both.

“Is Spain already back asleep?” Portugal asked, already knowing now that if France turned up unannounced at conveniently the right time, it was because Spain was going through the same thing. France nodded, and no more words needed to be exchanged between them.

Another way that Portugal and Spain were different was physical contact. While Spain couldn't get close enough to him, Portugal preferred to just sit next to him and rest his head on his shoulder, which he did the moment France finished adjusting the blanket around them. France rested his hand on Portugal's back and gently ran it up and down in a slow, soothing rhythm as he contemplated how he and Spain were almost opposite in being comforted with nightmares. Portugal would often get more upset or angry if France tried to patronize him with soothing words unless he asked for them. He needed noise when he was alone, his thoughts always lingered and cycled around in his head when he was alone, but with someone there with him, a comfortable silence was needed much more.

France pretended not to notice as Portugal scooted closer to him a few minutes later. He also didn't make any remarks when Portugal started to softly cry again into his shoulder. It wasn't until France turned his head to press a gentle kiss to Portugal's forehead that Portugal started to outright sob and shudder. France grabbed a clean tissue with his free hand to help keep Portugal’s cheeks relatively dry. He knew that in the morning he'd be cursed and threatened if he ever told anyone about this, but he never mentioned anything to anyone else about it.

Everyone knew that everyone asked for France’s help at least once or twice, usually more, but nobody knew exactly what happened when France visited the others. Everyone was different in what they needed, but France always remembered who preferred what, even if they had never said it out loud. It was part of what made him everyone’s big brother.

By the time Portugal settled down again, it was starting to get light out, and France was having difficulties staying awake. It was then that Portugal finally spoke up again, the first time in almost an hour and a half that anything had been said between them.

“I-I’m going to go up to my room,” Portugal muttered, pulling away and yawning. “Take the guest room. I don't want you driving when you're that tired.”

France stood up and folded the blanket up again to drape it back over the back of the couch. “Thank you João,” he said, and Portugal looked at him surprised for a moment before giving a weak smirk.

“You're welcome França,” he replied, and France laughed softly.

“You wound me,” he said, putting a hand over his chest. “Here I bare my heart and soul to you by using your name, and you reject it so coldly.” He felt a surge of pride when he got a small snicker out of Portugal for it. He helped Portugal get up and pulled him into a loose hug. “Don't forget, I'm always here for you,” he whispered, kissing the top of Portugal's head. Portugal scoffed but returned the hug anyways.

“I know,” he muttered. They both knew it wouldn't change anything. Portugal never actually called him unless it was severe, leaving France to wonder how many nights Portugal had to stay up the entire night alone with his thoughts because his pride got in the way. No wonder Portugal was known for sleeping so much during the day.

When Portugal was starting to lean against him more and go limp, France gently scooped him up and carried him upstairs into his bedroom. He tucked him into the plush blankets and gently brushed his hair away from his face before he left to go into the guest room. He fell asleep almost immediately, not waking up again until Portugal shook him awake at noon.

“Hey, your food's not getting any warmer,” Portugal grumbled.

“Food?” France asked, sitting up with a yawn. He looked down in surprise when Portugal plopped a tray down in his lap that had a few different pastries and a cup of coffee.

“Food,” Portugal repeated flatly.

“Well that's very nice,” France cooed. “How about you sit down and eat these with me? I can't eat all of these by myself.”

Portugal reluctantly sat down on the edge of the bed and nibbled at a pastry and sipped at his own coffee while France did the same. The entire time they were both silent, until everything was gone. France couldn't help but smile when he saw how much of a mess Portugal's hair was.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” he asked, breaking the silence. Portugal simply shrugged.

“Hell if I know. I've been too busy,” he defended.

“How about you take care of these, and I'll go get everything from the bathroom?” France offered, handing the dishes to Portugal. Portugal nodded in agreement and got up, leaving quickly without another word while France got up and stretched before going into the bathroom to get all of the supplies he needed.

Brushing Portugal's hair out was a challenge, like always. His hair was so thick that it got knotted up again almost immediately after being brushed. France was patient though as he carefully worked on each knot, enjoying the comfortable silence that settled between them once more. The last difference between Spain and Portugal was that Portugal needed extra attention the next morning, even if he tried to act like he didn't. It was soothing for both of them, and it gave France a reason not to go to work that day.

Family always took priority anyways.


End file.
